The zombie was helpless, half buried in the sand. Only its torso, head, and an arm were free. A crab, those insidious scavengers, was behind it, tearing off bits of the rotten flesh with its claw and feeding itself. The sight amused me, as you might imagine. The gulls overhead, they were smart enough to leave well enough alone, or not so hungry, but the crab, the crab was more of a machine than an animal. No sense.
The tide was out and I stood among the breakers and set myself to watch.
We would never be free, I realized. There would always be more bodies buried in the sands, waiting for the right storm to set them loose, and there would always be the crabs, and things like them, recycling the disease back into the ecosystem. The birds might avoid the zombie, but they would eat the crabs. What would eat the birds?
And so I laughed. There was nothing left to do.
Tale Told 